


The AP Club

by AnomalousPotato



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Cannibalism, Horror, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 14:16:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20996168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnomalousPotato/pseuds/AnomalousPotato
Summary: A short mild-horror story about a friend and a long night of drinks





	The AP Club

**Author's Note:**

> Something i wrote for a creative writing class in senior year. Not near the best i could write, before then or now, but a personal favorite. Also the first piece I'm posting here as a way of learning from my past writing style.
> 
> tl;dr first work etc. be as harsh as you want

At the time, all I knew was the place sprang up out of nowhere. That was also _ all _I could hear about it, besides the basic drole anyone says about a new bar. Or, pardon me, ‘club’. That was the part everyone kept telling me, it was no bar. It was a club, which I interpreted as either high class or LSD and bright lights. Neither one was my style, I wasn’t the drinking or drug type, but it didn’t take much for my friend to convince me to go with him to pick up chicks. Specifically, It took a call.

I swear, if I hear him ask for a wingman again I’ll punch him in the throat. Of course, I can’t say I didn’t owe him at least. Aaron was my friend since middle school, and one of my few friends who stuck with me through high school, and basically the only one I kept in touch with after college. I don’t blame him for taking me, but couldn't he of picked..I don't know, anyone else?

So, Jack and Aaron went up the hill to fetch a pail of Gin and tonic. New place meant new girls, new girls meant...well, I didn’t love his way of wording it. As soon as we stepped in though...bright lights were there, yeah, but it was oddly pleasant. Not strobe, not blinding, but colorful. I could see, I could hear, I could feel the music echoing off the walls and into my chest. It was at the door that we split up, him to the dance floor and me to the bar. At least, I think he went there. I can only guess. I didn’t see, actually. I think I saw him with some girl whose hair was a pink brighter than my car’s high beams, and then I don’t know. I’ll call him in a bit anyway. 

I got up to the bar and got the bartender’s attention. He looked kinda pale and shuffled over kinda slow, even though he was just about a kid in terms of bartenders; he couldn’t of been more than 21. He didn’t talk much, except for an ‘mmhm’ and ‘uhuh’ to the other patrons. I asked him what was good, and he suggested their ‘special brew’. I just wanted something to make me forget what I was doing there and just make the night a blur so I could get back home faster, so I agreed. He went to a tap, over at the very edge of the bar, took a mug with the insignia ‘AP Club’ in raised letters on the side, and filled it with a reddish-amber liquid I assumed to be beer. 

The flow started strong and seemed to pulse out of out of the tap, then trickled off as it filled my glass. With the common skill of a proper bartender, he slid it down, and with the similar skill of a patron, I caught it and brought it to my lips. Definitely was beer, but there was an undertone I couldn’t tell. Like metal, for lack of a better word, but it wasn’t bad. More sharp than tainted, with a dozen other minor flavors that felt like they shouldn’t mix with it but somehow made it near euphoric! A sip turned into a full drink, and a full drink became too many. It couldn’t of had much alcohol. I don’t have much a tolerance, and I had so many I should’ve killed my liver if it was a normal beer. But that was the catch, I guess, wasn’t it? It wasn’t normal beer. 

When the bartender told me he was cutting me off, I could barely hold my glass straight, and someone tapped me on my shoulder. Through my slightly blurred vision, I could see it was feminine, lithe, voluptuous...I thought she had claws and teeth, but I blinked and realized it was just my eyes messing with me. She smiled at me and said something, I couldn’t make out much but I got the jist. I had a few too many, and she wanted to be a Samaritan and take me someplace to lay down. 

Now, I know what you’re saying. Or thinking, whatever. Some random person in a bar I don’t go to tells me she wants to take me somewhere. Shady as hell. Trust me, I know. Drunk me just didn’t care. I didn’t even see where she took me, but I could’ve sworn we never left the bar. Then again, there was a bed there. What bar has beds in the back? Unless it was for...eyech. I’d rather not think. But once again, I didn’t care at the time. She pushed me down on it, onto my back, and she stepped out. I think, anyway. By then, I was already slowly blacking out. 

When I came to again, it was only for a minute. I still think it was a dream, but that wouldn’t explain… I was vertical. I could see ahead, and move a little, but it was like I was strapped to the bed, only now the bed felt like cold metal. I blinked, and my vision focused out of the inebriation to make out my surroundings. The world came into focus, just as my eyes, and just as my body: every part of me was suddenly in a light, aching pain. I looked to the sides, and I could see other people in the same situation: up against a big metal wall, could see machines by them. Clear, blurry objects surrounded most of them. The one next to me I could’ve sworn was Aaron.

Something was on my arm. I reached to smack it, but my other arm couldn’t move but a few inches, and the first couldn’t at all. I looked at it, and saw my arm was tied just above the elbow. Above that...it was a tube. Stuck into my arm. 

A moment later, I saw how many were in me.

I think I screamed, but I don’t know for sure. I blacked out again, and then I woke up in a gutter, next to my apartment. I stumbled up to my room, and the concierge said i got some hand-delivered mail. She gave it to me, and it was signed by the AP Club owner. Some guy named Packer. I didn’t understand it well, but it said I could join the club. I have no idea what that means, but...they invited me back. Suggested I have some of their newest brew. They said...Aaron gave them the idea for it, and it was a hit last night.

I really, really should call him.

…

I could really go for another drink...


End file.
